Rowan's Diary
You probably think that this is the boring diary of a typical adolescent girl who talks about her crushes and friends and whines about mean teachers, stupid tween drama like that. You're probably wrong. Sparrowsong 22:48, July 3, 2010 (UTC) April 3, 2029 Dear Diary, My grandmother, my paternal grandmother, gives me a diary for my twelfth birthday today. It's white, with "Sweet Love" on it in nice cursive. There's also a hearts and cherries pattern...that's my favorite food...how thoughtful, Granna. I like it. I have a good birthday. First thing in the morning, Dad wakes me up and tells me "You're twelve, honey." I nod and smile, but it's a real smile. Not like some more mischievous kids in my class...they nod and smile at the teacher, pretending they know what she's talking about, but they don't really. I don't do that...I can't stand lying. Because I hate liars. If I lie, it makes me just like my grandfather, and that breaks my heart. Dad is still young when Grandpa leaves. Only six, five years younger than I am now. He leaves Granna all alone with Dad and Aunt Macy...that's Dad's sister. He never pays child support, never calls, never writes, never visits...never contacts Granna or the kids at all. But before Grandpa runs off, he lies. He makes a promise to his family, telling them that he loves them forever and he'll never leave them. But he doesn't love them forever, doesn't stay. He's a liar. Granna, Aunt Macy, Dad...they all seem so upset whenever someone talks about Grandpa. Or just when they're reminded of him. I remember asking about him, thinking that maybe he's an undercover superhero or something and that's why I don't see him, but they tell me the truth about him. The devastating truth. I'm so mad at Grandpa for what he did, I promise myself I'll never be a stupid liar like him. But deep down...I want to meet him... By the way, my name is Rowan. Rowan Jade Puckerman. My dad chooses the name Rowan, because it's so strong, so unique. To him, anyway. I think it's a little weird, but at least my name isn't Mushrooms or something. Santana, who is hard to think of as my mother, chooses the Jade part. She and Dad split when I'm still a baby. They have joint legal custody but I live with my dad. When I'm five, he marries someone new. She is not my mother, and it's awkward, but I like her enough. Three years later, she and Dad have twins...a boy and a girl. My half-brother and half-sister, Bradley and Tegan. My stepmom, Mallory, makes my favorite chocolate chip waffles. She always makes them on my birthday. One bite is enough to make me so happy, I want to explode. The taste of them, of chocolate, takes everything away. I put on a nice outfit. My favorite white jeans, my leopard-print ballet flats, and that American Eagle shirt that Aunt Macy gets me last Christmas. And my hair looks nice. I get a phone call after breakfast. It's from my other half-sister, Beth, that I only see about once a month. Eight years before me, she's born to a teen mother. Her name, Dad tells me, is Quinn Fabray. But she gets adopted by a lady. Shelby Corcoran. She wants a baby...but she can't have one. Beth wishes me a happy birthday and talks to me about everything that's going on with her college stuff. I know, college will come...but it seems a million years away... Santana takes me out for lunch at this place that makes good grilled cheese sandwiches. I like it a lot, too...it just that something about this makes me a little sad. I wish that I could know Santana better and call her "Mom" for a reason other than trying not to hurt her feelings. She wishes me well and drives me back to Dad and Mallory's. I watch television until it's time to eat dinner. Pepperoni pizza with gooey yellow cheese. I like it, but the fact that I'm eating dead pigs kinda bothers me. An inside joke of ours is that we always put one less candle on the birthday cake. Mine has eleven instead of twelve. It's because on my fifth birthday, Dad (who is only engaged to Mallory at the time) accidentally forgets a candle. He's worried I'll be upset, but I find it pretty funny. So now, we always do it every year, on purpose. Can't believe I'm twelve already. Soon enough, I'll be a teenager...but I don't feel like one...I still feel like a kid. Am I ever going to be like those cool girls with perfect lives and the world's highest self-esteem? -Rowan April 4, 2029 Dear Diary, I want to If I tell, what will Am I overreacting, or is it Will I have to go into a Does she Okay, I'm finally saying it...finally telling someone. I always want to...but I'm too...scared? Santana hits me sometimes. There, I said it. No, she doesn't beat me or anything...and I don't really know if it's abusive or anything...just, when she gets frustrated sometimes, she'll slap me across the face or on my hand. When she drinks, usually. I just try to shudder, leave her alone...tell myself it's just the alcohol. I'm not telling, no way, they will just change it to supervised or no visitation for Santana and sole legal custody for Dad. Honestly, that's not too different from what they currently have. And Santana might get charged...I may not love her, like most daughters love their moms, but I don't hate her. Actually, she's okay when she's sober. I don't want her to go to jail. Today, Dad and Mallory go out on one of their dates, and I have to babysit the twins. Naturally, they throw a fit once they realize their parents are gone, but I calm them down by giving them chocolate and watching Toy Story with them. Just when they're almost relaxed enough to fall asleep, though, Tegan takes Braddy's toy without asking. Of course...they have a big brawl. Which I have to take care of. Dad, Mallory...am I your nanny or your (step)daughter? I don't feel like I'm ready to babysit...I'm scared of something happening. If there was a fire or something, I don't think I would know what to do...other than the obvious 911 call...why can't you get Granna to babysit? Or Aunt Macy? Or Nanny and Gramp Botstein? (Mallory's parents, my step-grandparents) At least they're adults. I feel kind of used... -Rowan April 5, 2029 I have a decent day at school. I get a B-plus on the big science test...that's pretty good for me. I'm not that good at science...or maybe the test was just easy... ...Or maybe I'm just letting myself be bad at it. In gym, I trip and land on my stomach. I feel an ache under my ribs as I get up...I just ignore it. "You okay, Rowan?" asks Avery, a girl from my class. She is nice, and she seems like she would like to be friends, but I don't talk to her too much. She wears big glasses, but I really like her eyes underneath them. Avery's eyes are a pretty shade of blue-green, and they're so clear and bright. I never trust someone with dull eyes. Eyes have to have life in them, or they just don't look right. "Yes," I answer, nodding. "But thanks for asking." "No problem." She smiles shyly at me. While I'm waiting for Dad and/or Mallory to arrive, I sit by the window and count the little drops of water falling from the sky. I sit there for about fifteen minutes before I feel a tap on my shoulder. Upon turning around, I'm surprised at the sight of Santana and her fiancée, Brittany. I only see Santana maybe three times a month at the most, and she never picks me up from school. Yes, they're bisexual and no, they're not exactly gonna be commited to each other the way most married couples are. They're still gonna be with other people and stuff, yet both are perfectly fine with that. Apparently, they've been like that since high school. I sometimes think they're still in high school. "Hey...Mom, Brittany," I say, clearing my throat. "What are you doing here?" "We're pickin' you up from school today," is Brittany's casual answer. I ask why, and they tell me to come out to the car because there's a surprise waiting for me. Just before Santana opens the door for me, she announces it. "You're getting a little brother!" I leap backwards, almost fainting. I shout "What?" at the top of my lungs, my eyes darting towards her stomach, and that of my future stepmother. Neither of them look pregnant. Then I go inside, and...woah. I really don't expect anything like this. Meet Balin Lopez, the baby boy she and Brittany have adopted from India. He's sitting beside me in a carseat, and really cute. I smile and reach out to hold his hand, and he smiles back. I think I like him. -Rowan Category:Puck Category:Santana Category:Puck/Santana Category:Brittany/Santana Category:Sparrowsong's Stuff Category:Stories Category:Quinn/Puck Category:Beth Category:Shelby